


Team Lorne, Take Two

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [49]
Category: Night World - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any, Trapped on a post-apocalyptic world."</p><p>Team Lorne is reunited for an off-planet mission that is devastated when its stargate explodes.</p><p>Tag to Lost Tribe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Lorne, Take Two

“What the hell just happened?” Walker cried.  
  
Stevens, Coughlin, and Reed stared at him. Walker never swore. Then they all stared out the jumper window at the planet’s surface, where a mushroom cloud was rising up.  
  
“It was the gate, sir,” Reed said, hands flying across the console, dozens and dozens of sensor screens dancing in midair. “It dialed up, and then it exploded. Took out -” His hands shook as he pressed several buttons, brought up more screens. “It took out most of the continent.”  
  
“How do we get home?” Coughlin asked in a small voice.  
  
Stevens took a deep breath. “Break atmo. Send a subspace transmission. And then - then we have to land and see about the survivors.” Even though he was used to commanding his own team, this reunion tour approved by Teldy only served to remind them that Lorne should have been commanding them, and if Coughlin obeyed Stevens’s order a beat later than he should have, Stevens understood why.  
  
The subspace message was brief - description of the incident, planet designation, send help ASAP - and then the jumper descended back to the surface of the planet.  
  
There was a crater where the stargate had been. A massive hole in the ground, black burn marks marring the edges of the hole. People stood around in a daze, staring. What few buildings had existed had been shaken to the ground by the force of the explosion.  
  
The people on P27-M59 hadn’t been particularly advanced to start with, and a naquadah bomb had gone off in their capital, devastating their society. This was their very own apocalypse.  
  
They landed the jumper and cloaked it, and then -  
  
“It’s like A-stan, handing out crayons and food, only we have no crayons and no food,” Reed said.  
  
“We need to hold onto our own rations,” Stevens said, the words catching in his throat, because these people were terrified and traumatized and their world had literally exploded around them. “We need to be fit for duty when someone from Atlantis comes for us. But let’s do what we can.”  
  
They couldn’t do much. One girl snapped out of her daze quickly, identified herself as a healer, and began triaging survivors. Walker, who’d been an EMT back in the day, went to help her, assigning assistants to her, helping her bind wounds and soothe burns. Reed rounded up a couple of teenage boys as child-minders, herding all of the kids into one place. Coughlin and Stevens organized non-injured adults to help build a camp, scavenge building materials to make shelters, to dig latrines, to find food and build a central stockpile so they could start rationing.  
  
Stevens knew they could only take advantage of the people’s shock for so long, so he wasn’t surprised when one man, taller and stronger than most of the other survivors, asked the question.  
  
“Why should we take orders from you?”  
  
“Have you dealt with a situation like this before?” Stevens asked.  
  
The man gestured at the food stockpile Coughlin was building, having conscripted Reed’s kids into helping. “How do we know you won’t keep the food for yourselves?”  
  
“We’re not from here,” Stevens said, “and we don’t plan to stay here, but until help arrives, we all have to work together.”  
  
The man eyed their jumper. “How do we know you didn’t do this? To subdue us?”  
  
“If we’d wanted to subdue you,” Stevens said flatly, “we’d have just killed all of you, but there are more of you than there are of us. If you don’t want to help, fine, don’t. But stay out of the way.”  
  
They worked for hours, and Stevens as alarmed at how fast his canteen went dry.  
  
The central well system had been in the capital, too.  
  
Most of the clean water had gone toward cleaning wounds. The jumper was out of bandages and medical supplies, and Stevens had, out of pity, rationed some power bars among the kids. He’d designated one of the natives to ration the food supplies, but food wouldn’t help where there was no water.  
  
Stevens, Walker, Coughlin, and Reed retreated to the shelter of the jumper, which they’d left cloaked even though that one burly guy had settled down and pitched in after his wife yelled at him.

“What do we do, sir?” Walker asked.  
  
“What do we have, and what do we need?” Stevens asked.  
  
“We have a bunch of thirsty people, and we need clean water,” Reed said.  
  
They held out as long as they could, but then Laka, the nurse, brought them a crying, thirsty child. They talked about sending out a scouting party for water, but the people had survived on cisterns of collected rainwater.  
  
“There has to be some kind of natural freshwater source on the land,” Walker said. “Mountains are that way. Why don’t we take the jumper and go?”  
  
Stevens took a deep breath. “Okay. Coughlin, take Reed. Walker, you’re with me. Go. Find water.”  
  
“Sir, should we split up?” Reed darted a look at the angry burly guy.  
  
“That’s an order,” Stevens said. He and Walker stepped out of the jumper, and the hatch closed, and it was like the jumper had never existed. Stevens could feel the buzz of Ancient tech fade as the jumper flew away, though.  
  
“Now what, sir?” Walker asked.  
  
“I have a crazy idea,” Stevens said.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Stevens’s canteen was still empty, and his head ached.  
  
“None of us can summon fire,” Walker said in a low voice. “How the hell would we summon water?”  
  
Stevens took a deep breath, tried to remember what Teyla said about being centered. He had to be at one with his body, had to be aware of every limb and joint and hair, had to be the eye of the storm.  
  
And then the canteen in his hands was heavier. Stevens stared. Shook it. Water sloshed inside.  
  
Walker’s eyes were wide. “Sir! You did it!”  
  
“Go,” Stevens said. “Get me that kid.”  
  
Soon everyone in their weird little settlement was lined up in front of Stevens, each getting a drink from his canteen. He could only summon a little water at a time, but some was better than none.  
  
The burly man who’d been cranky watched, wide-eyed, as Stevens summoned water, shook his canteen to make sure some was inside, and handed it to him.  
  
“You are like the Old Gods of Sateda,” he said, and Stevens froze.  
  
“Sateda?”  
  
The man nodded. “Chieftain Ronon and his people trade with us, are kind to us. I have seen small magic by the Chieftain, his True Form, and I have heard of other magic, but I had never seen it.” The man bobbed his head deferentially. “You said you were from Atlantis, home of the Ancestors, but you have the magic of the Old Gods.”  
  
“Tell me more,” Stevens said, “about Chieftain Ronon.”  
  
What he meant was, _Tell me if Lorne is still with him._  
  
When Atlantis sent help - and they would send help - Stevens couldn’t let the locals tell them about Ronon and Lorne. But he needed to know more.  
  
If only they could get off this godforsaken planet.


End file.
